Notes: When I got the idea the other night for 'When She Cries,' it was intended to be a stand alone ficlet. But, of course, Sam wanted her say too ;-)

Slight AU warning: I'm ignoring the Angel-John dating thing.... sorry *l* I couldn't even watch her hanging on John on the show *g*

Disclaimer: Not my players. Not even my playground this time. :-)

I can't watch as he leaves. Even though everything I am screams for me to go after him, I can't even turn and watch as he retreats. Much less follow him.

What would be the point? The logical part of my brain, what remains of it where John is concerned, won't let me believe there would be a point. He ran from me when I found him here. Why wouldn't he run from me again, out there in the street, or anywhere else?

I sigh and rub a hand over my eyes, trying to ignore the smoky air of the bar. He was right, I'm so tired anymore that even sleeping seems like it would require too much energy. Damn, there are days when I hate it that he's right.

this isn't one of those times. He isn't right about leaving. I know this is true, unquestionably and without a doubt. I just wish how I knew so I could explain it to him. He might not listen to anyone else, but I always thought he would listen to me. Yet tonight he didn't. Or rather, he wouldn't.

I know what I saw when I first walked up to him. He hid it behind a cool, hard glaze in his eyes, but he wasn't fast enough. He's confused; he feels out of control. Neither is a condition that leaves him very happy nor at all pleasant to be around.

The last few days are something of a blur, a rare occurrence for me. I wish they weren't, otherwise I might know how things ended up being so wrong. The command center has become like a war zone of late. Even after John left, Bailey simmered inside his office. George stayed hidden away at the computer, Grace in her lab. Safer outside of the line of fire, I suppose.

Then again, since returning to the FBI, I've not been one to stray from the middle of the action. Especially when those involved are the people I care about. And I do care about John. More than I would have expected, and more than I ever wanted to at first. Yet somehow he got to me, and it was the things that weren't staged or planned that did it.

Of all the people I work with, John's the only one with whom I truly felt a connection. It might be his past, or the way he guards himself so carefully. I know that I cannot stand the idea of him not being there, day after day. It's a selfish thought, but I can't seem to help it.

It's why I followed him here. I had to see him, even though I already knew I wouldn't be able to change his mind. Then when I felt moisture burning the backs of my eyes, I honestly thought I was going to scare him away. For the briefest moment, his guard slipped again. There was pain in those blue eyes, and regret.

Somehow knowing that made it impossible to simply blink the tears away. I hate knowing he's hurting. I hate it that no one else knows it's there because he always hides it so well, only it's never so well hidden that I can't tell. And I'm scared by the fact that every time I catch a glimpse of an innocent little boy in his eyes all I want to do is hold him and not let go.

I can't help but wonder how different he would be if he didn't guard himself so carefully, but I know that without the walls he wouldn't be John. We're all formed by our experiences. I've learned enough about his, from rare talks during long nights spent together on cases, to know that his childhood was a baptism by fire.

The result was a soul that's a thousand layers deep, but forever hidden behind jokes and innuendo. I long to know if anyone has ever been allowed close enough to truly touch that soul. A part of me would envy them that. Still, I don't want to face what I feel sometimes when he looks at me. I don't even want to think about it at times.

I gave that kind of power over my heart to Tom, and in the end Jack used it against me in the most perverted of ways. I trust John. I have since the earliest days of our working together. But I can't trust Jack to not see another prize in John. A fault that John neither causes, nor asks for. Yet it is there all the same, and the trust we share is shadowed because of it.

He hasn't been gone for ten minutes, and I already wonder where he is. I know he can take care of himself, but a part of me laments that I won't be able to make sure of that with my own eyes anymore. I remember all too well how I felt when I heard he was shot. For a moment, my heart had frozen and I rushed to his side. I don't want to learn about something like that again, only days or weeks after the fact.

And for all my doubts and worries otherwise, I remember the emotions I saw on his face just now. I want nothing more than for him to trust me. To let me inside the walls and be there when things get out of control. For him to accept that he won't hurt me by leaning on me.

I wish he would believe that he doesn't always have to stand alone.

End